onions
come gift-wrapped in gossamer gauze
and split into spirals of pearl

you
wear a raven rag worn to feather-down
and bury unplumbed depths of body beneath

love
is shaped of (one) the yearning for you
and (two) the ambition to act well by you

one
I will rather hold soft than shiny
I will rather taste sweet than sour

two
you grow deeper than any root
and I, a storyteller, garden souls

I
(three) still fear to rip apart never grasping
what first desires or second requires

I have a question, does anyone know why my picture won't show up? I have tried a couple different ones and they all do this!(or can you guys see it and just I can't?) If anyone has any clue, I would really appreciate it! Also, any advice with the poetry would be very appreciated, and a comment would make my day!
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Unique

I am scared
Senseless
Shaking

To be me
Original
Unique

To open up
Show
Tell

To be free
Giggle
Wink

I am afraid of being afraid.
And I know it sounds silly--
sometimes I dream I bring thirsty bees water
and they circle my head like a crown. Forget honey.
It's the bees themselves that really matter;
summer evenings, watching them drop fat from flowers
as if they're made of honey themselves.

But I fear I'd be afraid.

Real beekeepers don't wear gloves.
And if I was stung-- What then?
In truth, I fear I'd drop the frame:
a mess of broken comb and propolis and humid tears.

JUST AS AN EXPLANATION, THIS IS STILL LIKE THE NEXT CHAPTER IN THE STORY, BUT IT IS ALSO THE FIRST PART OF SEVERAL EXCERPTS FROM JEREMY DRAMES' JOURNAL WHICH ARE INTEGRATED INTO THE STORY AND WILL HELP EXPLAIN THINGS LATER ON.
******************************************************

Jeremy Drames
Sky Screen Log #1
August 14, 2020
4:39 a.m.

All wise men fear water.
They fear drowning, in too deep
they fear rain dripping steadily onto the street
they always carry umbrellas and
they never look at seas.

When I was young, I saw a river
Due to drought, it was growing thinner.
Stones were like gems inside it and
the fish were just like silver.

The water was streaming onward fast
not a hard-smooth mirror or a sheet of glass.
I reached my hand into it and
I felt it rushing past.

       It was evening of the next day. Adelaide was restless. She could not forget the visible strength of the man who had saved her. It frightened her. Never had she seen a soldier of such built and such serious demeanor. Revocatus, assuredly, possessed grave features, but his presence bore warmth. And Lawrence was gentler and his gravity came from something deeper within him. She dreaded the meeting that was to occur that night.

A new chapter, and it's not even Christmas! I bet you feel special.

In all seriousness, today is a special day - my four-year anniversary of joining ApricotPie, and the first anniversary of James saving the site and becoming editor. You will never know what all this means to me.

After the scrumptious breakfast of scones and sausage that Aunt Monria served me, my first order of business was to return to my room and write a letter to my parents, informing them of my safe arrival. I then had the rest of the day to myself, and decided to spend it familiarizing myself with my new home city. Donning a thick shawl to keep off the chill, I left the mansion and walked across the grounds and out the gate into the town of Havenwing. It was market day, Aunt Monria had told me, which promised more excitement in addition to the pure enjoyment of exploration.

(A bit disorganized, but there's no way I could straighten out this train of though tonight.)

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